I always imagined that having a baby would bring my husband and me closer, making our family happier. But I never thought that the biggest challenge to our relationship would come from someone else—his mother.
Jessica, my mother-in-law, has the need to control everything around her. And unfortunately, my husband lets her.
From the moment I found out I was pregnant, I felt like the luckiest woman alive. Bill and I had dreamed of this moment for years.
Jessica had been waiting for this baby too. But she had never liked me.
From the very beginning, she made it clear that she didn’t think I was good enough for her son.
“Bill deserves someone better,” she had said.
And when I got pregnant, everything changed.
Jessica involved herself in every aspect of my pregnancy from the very start. She never missed a doctor’s appointment.
“You need me to come with you,” she insisted. “I know what’s best.”
Throughout my pregnancy, I suffered from constant nausea, barely able to keep food down. But Jessica didn’t care.
I repeatedly begged Bill to stop telling her everything and set some boundaries, but it never worked.
One day, when we went for the ultrasound to find out our baby’s gender, Jessica was already sitting in the waiting room.
“How did she know?” I whispered to Bill.
When the doctor announced that we were having a girl, I was overjoyed—this was our dream, a baby girl.
But before we could share the news ourselves, Jessica blurted out:
“You couldn’t even give my son a boy. He needed an heir.”
My stomach twisted. “An heir for what? His video game collection?”
“For your information, the father determines the baby’s gender, not the mother.”
“That’s a lie. Your body is the problem. You were never right for my son.”
In the car, I turned to Bill. “How did she know about the appointment?”
“I told her,” he admitted.
“I asked you not to!” I cried.
“She’s the grandmother,” he muttered.
“And I’m your wife!” I shot back, my voice shaking.
“I’m carrying our daughter! Don’t you care how I feel?”
“Just ignore her,” he mumbled.
When my daughter was born, the doctors rushed her away immediately.
“Please,” I pleaded weakly. “Give her to me.”
“You’re losing too much blood!” a doctor shouted.
The world blurred. Then—nothing.
When I woke up, everything felt meaningless.
Then the door burst open, and there stood Jessica, her face twisted with anger.
“You didn’t even tell me you were in labor!” she snapped.
Bill sighed. “It happened too fast.”
“That’s no excuse!” Jessica hissed.
She turned toward my baby. “What a beautiful girl,” she cooed.
“She needs to be fed,” the nurse said firmly.
Jessica barely looked at her. “Then give her formula.”
“I’m going to breastfeed her,” I said, my voice trembling.
She was mine. She was everything.
Two weeks passed, but Jessica never stopped showing up.
One afternoon, she barged in, holding an envelope.
“Proof,” she said.
“Proof of what?” Bill asked, confused.
“That Carol isn’t faithful,” she spat.
“What?! What did you do?” I screamed at Jessica.
With shaking hands, I grabbed Eliza’s clothes, silent sobs wracking my body as I packed her things.
Days later, my mother took us in, holding me as I cried.
I handed Bill an envelope.
“This is the real DNA test,” I said quietly.
He opened it. “99.9%,” he whispered.
“Eliza is your daughter,” I told him.
He looked at me, his eyes full of regret.
“Please… come back,” he said.